The Vacation Wife by David Stone (best selling autobiographies TXT) 📕

possibility, and I didn’t know what to think if it was a possibility.

Once they took the edge off their hunger, we refilled our glasses, emptying the second pitcher of margaritas. It didn’t matter, it was the weekend. There was no harm in a little celebration now and then, plus, we rarely drank during the week.

Facing the women, I didn’t have a direct line of sight to Greg’s backyard. I’d almost forgotten about that whole situation when I noticed a deer-in-the-headlights look on Susan’s face. I looked over my shoulder and saw Greg restored to his previous position on his deck, though he was now standing. It took a few seconds to digest the fact that he was now naked. He was stretching his arms with his head back like he was making an offering to the sun.

I had to admit he had an impressive cock. It hung rather far, I thought, and seemed thick, even from this distance. It didn’t look aroused, meaning it just hung straight down. He relaxed from his Sun God Worship pose, then sat in his chair and took a big gulp from a drink sitting beside his book, which he then picked up and pretended to read.

I looked at Susan. Her eyes were rigidly fixed on Greg and she seemed completely unaware of my presence. Marci remained clueless about the situation. She was now scraping crumbs through the remaining salsa and licking her fingers. She was covered anew with chip fragments and salsa drippings as you would imagine a kid might be who hadn’t been properly raised.

I leaned over to tap Susan’s knee, which startled her. She looked at me as her chest heaved, due to her drawing in a deep breath. Perhaps she’d forgotten to breathe while staring at Greg. I used a head gesture to indicate I was aware of what she had been looking at. She smiled and looked at Marci, who remained oblivious. I put a vertical finger to my lips, indicating Susan shouldn’t say anything about this new development in the adjoining yard.

“Marci,” I said. “Look at yourself, you’re a mess. We can’t take you anywhere.” She followed my eyes down to her boobs.

“I am a mess, aren’t I?” she said, laughing. She must have been fairly drunk now. “Where’s your hose? I could use a rinse.”

“We like to keep it in the yard.” I pointed to it on the lawn, coiled near the steps to the deck. She went to it, turned the faucet on, and pointed the end of the hose to her breasts. In a nanosecond, the water streamed and she screamed.

“Fuck that’s hot.” She pointed the hose to the yard to let the water heated by the sun escape. She tested the water and then ran it over herself, gently palming her breasts to rub off the stubborn crumbs. She turned off the hose and rejoined us, still oblivious to naked Greg next door.

Looking refreshed, she brushed off the chaise lounge, sat down, picked up her drink, and took a swig. Her breasts, now glistening from the water, looked utterly sublime. I’d truly forgotten how wonderful they were. She was more buxom than Susan, who was now leaning back in the lounge also looking as lovely as ever. Her posture was very open, almost like she was willing Greg to drink her in.

I decided to leave her to it, picked up the empty pitcher, tapped Marci’s knee and indicated she should follow me into the kitchen.

“What’s up?” she said, once there.

“Nothing. I just thought you could keep me company while I made another pitcher.  You can help. How are you feeling, by the way? Do you need anything more to eat? You seemed ravenous with those chips.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Sometimes I can be a slob. Plus I have a thing for chips and salsa.” She rinsed out the pitcher and handed it to me. “I’m not sure what else I can do to help here, buddy. It’s pretty simple. Add the mix, dunk in the tequila. Shake it up.”

“Got it,” I said.

“Hey, let’s do some shots!”

“No! I feel it plenty already,” I said.

“Hey, it’s Saturday. Plus, why not? The day’s already pretty much toast.” She cut a lime into wedges, got shot glasses from the cupboard and filled them up. She handed me a glass and a wedge. “Bottoms up!” We downed the shots.

“One more!” she said and produced another round. I knew she could hold her liquor, but she was pushing it.

She waved her hand in front of her face, indicating she was hot or that the tequila burned. Possibly both.

“So, this is pretty weird, isn’t it?” she said. “We’re standing naked in your kitchen. I didn’t see that coming when I got up this morning.”

“Weird, but I’m used to it now.”

“Me too. It’s fun, like old times. Plus, I like seeing this side of Susan. She seems to like it too. I was shocked when she licked my boob.”

“Yeah, me too.” Once again I felt my cock responding rather quickly to the situation at hand. I was standing naked in my kitchen with a beautiful woman who was also naked. I turned to face the counter and look out the window, but it was too late.

“Oh, look at you!” said Marci. “Is that for me?” In a split second, she had reached over and grabbed my cock. It instantly filled her hand. I jerked back and she let go.

“Sorry, Ryan,” she said. “Old habits, I guess.” She laughed. I wanted to bend her over the counter and have my way with her.

What the hell was I thinking?

“You know,” she said. “You could screw me if you wanted to. I’m beginning to think Susan wouldn’t even mind.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Am I? I don’t think so. Let’s do another shot!”

“I really don’t need it, Marci. I’m pretty buzzed already.”

“So am I. Who cares?” She poured herself a shot and drained it, then left the kitchen to join Susan on the deck. Susan’s eyes were closed. She’d